ALass4Larry
Acrobat
**This chapter starts to deal with sensitive subject matter. It is not meant to offend anyone. I have no experience with this subject so my apologies go out in advance. I didn't plan for the story to go this way, but it just sort of ended up here. Oh yeah, still don't know the band and any resemblence to characters is solely for the readers entertainment. It's a short one, let me know what you think.
Chapter 8
Lawrence lost himself in the forest. He felt as if he'd been run through with a sword. His mind reeled. All this time he'd spent fighting to keep the English away from his village, his family. They'd come anyway. He'd lost his childhood to them, days that should have been carefree, gone. His parents were dead, the girl he loved forced to bear a child in the shame of rape. He'd somehow found his way back to the burial site. He knelt at his parents graves and prayed.
"God in heaven, I'm so lost", he said out loud. I don't know where to turn or what to do next. Please guide me."
Should he rejoin the band of warriors? It all seemed pointless now. He couln't stay here anymore, could he? "God's Wounds, the pain in my heart is more than I can bear", he thought. Lawrence, still on his knees, raised his head to heaven and roared out his frustration.
"Good Saint Patrick, lad." Are ye tryin' to put me in an early grave?" Lawrence spun around at the sound. "Forgive me, Friar Evans, but I didna see ye there." Lawrence had the good sense to look ashamed. "The smitty sent me here, said I'd be some help to ye, now that ye know the truth of all that happened the night ye left," replied the priest.
Lawrence thought for a long moment. He'd had to rely on himself for so long he'd forgotten what it was like to ask for help. Maybe Friar Evans was right. Maybe he could help. Besides, didn't Lawrence just admit to himself that Brigid was the girl he'd loved?
Chapter 8
Lawrence lost himself in the forest. He felt as if he'd been run through with a sword. His mind reeled. All this time he'd spent fighting to keep the English away from his village, his family. They'd come anyway. He'd lost his childhood to them, days that should have been carefree, gone. His parents were dead, the girl he loved forced to bear a child in the shame of rape. He'd somehow found his way back to the burial site. He knelt at his parents graves and prayed.
"God in heaven, I'm so lost", he said out loud. I don't know where to turn or what to do next. Please guide me."
Should he rejoin the band of warriors? It all seemed pointless now. He couln't stay here anymore, could he? "God's Wounds, the pain in my heart is more than I can bear", he thought. Lawrence, still on his knees, raised his head to heaven and roared out his frustration.
"Good Saint Patrick, lad." Are ye tryin' to put me in an early grave?" Lawrence spun around at the sound. "Forgive me, Friar Evans, but I didna see ye there." Lawrence had the good sense to look ashamed. "The smitty sent me here, said I'd be some help to ye, now that ye know the truth of all that happened the night ye left," replied the priest.
Lawrence thought for a long moment. He'd had to rely on himself for so long he'd forgotten what it was like to ask for help. Maybe Friar Evans was right. Maybe he could help. Besides, didn't Lawrence just admit to himself that Brigid was the girl he'd loved?
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